Penelope
by clockwork starlight
Summary: but cease from this pitiful strain, that ever wastes my heart within my breast, since to me above all women hath come a sorrow comfortless. Konan, she who waits, and does as she is bid in the meantime. Spoilers for everything you will ever see of Konan.


All quotes from Homer's Odyssey. Because Penelope had boy-issues. There wasn't really anything she did in her life that _wasn't_ decided by a man. Although she did kind of get prodded by Athena to be a little sluttish just to make her suitors seem much more jerkish. But that was a god-thing. Athena was only in it for Odysseus. Penelope was stuck 'running' a country while her husband was off having adventures, and she had to raise a son. TWENTY YEARS WITHOUT A HUSBAND. But she was afraid of offending the dozens of men that came for her hand by refusing them outright, and guiled gifts from them. She was shocked when her son told her to go back to her rooms because discussions were for MEN. And she obeyed him.

Anyway. I thought I'd give Konan some distance with Jiraiya, because he never even considered her the child of prophecy, and he really did do a crap job training her. Like, what kunoichi just STANDS there being tethered by one guy's hand? Jiraiya, like his creator, didn't know jack about women. Especially women who should be strong.

Like Penelope, Konan only got by by relying on men. So not fair.

* * *

_soon shouldest thou be aware of kindness and of many a gift at my hands, so that whoso met with thee would call thee blessed._

She had found an umbrella, one without any holes, colorless, like the landscape. But it was kind of musical when the rain fell. She couldn't remember what music sounded like, but it was supposed to be feelings. Happiness and sadness and everything else.

The rain sounded a little apologetic to her as it danced above her head. She liked her umbrella much more than the old rain coat. You could share an umbrella. And you could spin it. There wasn't anything better than spinning an umbrella and watching all the water go arcing away. She thought even the water liked it. When it rained, it just fell like so many pebbles. But when you spun, it _flew_.

Her umbrella was a lucky umbrella, she thought. She seemed to find good things when she had it.

She found food more often. She found a boy once. And a little dog that growled weakly at her. She knelt and showed him a loaf of bread that hadn't been too stale when she took it. She helped him get to a nice dry, covered area. Under her umbrella.

And when he was ready to eat, for what had to be the first time in days, he broke the bread and gave half to the pathetic pile of fur that followed them. Yahiko would have sooner eaten the dog. Probably. It was so small there wouldn't have been much to go around.

But they were warm.

And in that cramped cave, the rain sang them all to sleep with silver.

_biddest thou me indeed to cease from the sorrows and pains, _

_so many that disquiet my heart and soul?_

Yahiko always told Nagato to stop crying. He told them he would rule the world, that he would fix it. Like God, Nagato had said. And as if the real gods had heard this human folly, a stray kunai fell from the heavens and Death stood several meters away, over the limp carcass of their dog. There were more explosions, and no time to mourn. So they fled.

They ran, frightened children, alone and unsure, to safety and shelter. The rain never once let up.

And Yahiko swore to defeat the cruel gods that poured chaos upon the land so much so it never stopped crying. He said he would become a god, the god of the world. And he had his first follower.

They found the Sannin. There was apathy in their eyes, as if the rain had washed away everything but killing. They dismissed them at first, she hadn't been surprised. Their own countrymen refused them, why should their enemies be better? As if to make up for taking Chibi away, the gods allowed them to have a teacher, a father, a protector.

She never really knew what changed his mind about teaching them the ways of the ninja. Only that Yahiko and Nagato had been attacked, and that Nagato had saved them both while she had run to get Sensei.

Sensei always said she was kind, as if compassion was an excuse for a girl to be weak. He encouraged her to focus on her paper techniques, like he was trying to keep her from getting her hands dirty.

He told her she'd be beautiful when she grew up. It wasn't what she'd wanted to hear. What good was beauty in that place?

_give me so__ soft a death even now, that I might no more waste my life in sorrow of heart_

Their gang didn't wear the masks that marked Hanzo's shinobi, as if reminding everyone that the rain was part of them. They should have known better than to trust him.

She never could figure out how she had been taken. She'd been hit in the face at least a few times. The rain that fell that day was cold, but it couldn't sooth her swollen cheeks. Her hands were bound and numbed from the rough treatment; without them there was nothing she could do.

Not for the first time did she wish Jiraiya had seen her for more than just a girl tagging along with the boys. She wasn't kind; that had been Nagato, who cried so earnestly for them and for their country. She was weak and helpless, and if she had truly been kind, she would have spared Nagato from such a cruel decision by taking matters into her own hands. Figuratively.

If she had really been a kunoichi, Hanzo would not have spared her. She would have been dead; because each second he had held her over them would have been a chance she could have killed him. But she wasn't.

She had told them to run. Yahiko had told them he would die. She couldn't even do that for them. Hanzo had held her with one hand, and even after he had thrown his weapon down, she couldn't do anything. If she could have put up a fight, Yahiko wouldn't have… they'd have tried to help her. Together.

He left her on her knees as Yahiko stained the world red, worthless as she was. She hated herself, because they loved her.

_verily dreams are hard, and hard to be discerned; nor are all things therein fulfilled for men_

She learned on her own, how to become an angel. If she had been able to dissolve into butterflies like some children's magic trick earlier, she could have been down there facing the gods' gambit rather than _being_ it. Perhaps turning into paper cost her her humanity, but that was nothing compared to Nagato. He became obsessed with Yahiko's dream.

Nagato wanted a uniform for his Akatsuki. He told her he would bring the sun to this darkened world, as Yahiko had wanted. Because it was for Yahiko's dream, for Yahiko, she thought of him. How he had lain there as rain fell remorselessly. How he was lying in a puddle that was slowly turning red with his blood.

Red rainclouds, he decided. Like a bloody sunrise. She didn't particularly care. Anything that made him happy. He was taken with having ten main members, like the fingers of God's hands. Perfect for shaping a new world.

She wondered if Orochimaru knew her, when he joined them. He looked the same as before, but she was no longer a shadow, no longer helpless, no longer a child. Even if he recognized her, he couldn't know her. It had been too long since she was vulnerable and exposed. They learn, piece by piece, about his experiments, and she finds herself a little glad he had suggested killing three orphans of war, rather than taking them home.

She wondered what Jiraiya was doing. If maybe he'd be proud of them.

_surely my excellence, both of face and form, the gods destroyed_

When she did finally come face to face with her former teacher, she didn't give a damn about what he thought. Her god held no love for him. Because he was threatening god's will and even if she did still call him Sensei, she was His angel first and foremost.

So she rained paper hate on him, even though she didn't _really_ expect him to remember her, much less care.

Still, she asked him why he had come; secretly hoping he had been looking for the children he had left behind. She was disappointed.

What was even worse was that she had to wait for Pain to help her. She had wanted to show him what remained of the girl he once thought he knew. Pain told her to stay back.

She wondered what he saw, what he felt when the six Paths fought Jiraiya. She didn't spare a thought for their teacher. She knew there would only be one ending.

Angels are terrible, inhuman creatures after all. Their only joy and purpose is to serve their god.

And when they come to Konoha, it is for Jiraiya's student. She doesn't understand the bond their teacher has forged between them. But Nagato tells her to let him in, and she can't refuse him.

_strange man, I have no proud thoughts, nor do I think scorn of thee_

He reminds her of Yahiko, of Nagato, of a childhood they chose to forsake. Perhaps that's why Nagato waits for his answer.

It shakes her to the core each time she questions him. She knows that something is changing her god. This boy, the living memory of Jiraiya, is reminding Nagato with each word, what it is to be human. It scares her. She hasn't been a child in a long time; she's no longer capable of such deep, easy trust.

But when Nagato chooses to believe in this boy, she has no choice but to accept that. It shouldn't surprise her that he's willing die for his dream. That he'll give up all that he has done, all that he could have done, all that he _has_. That it's the least he can do.

Yahiko and Nagato are everything to her. That dream was everything to them. She can't hate this boy who has inherited it.

She doesn't know when they started walking this path. She stopped caring about the end of it years ago. And now there are no more crossroads, but she only has her memories to keep her company.

_it is the gods that gave us sorrow, _

_the gods who begrudged us that we should abide together _

_and have joy of our youth, _

_and come to the threshold of old age_


End file.
